Existence
by QueenieMeanie
Summary: [Formally Titled: Immigrant Song] "As far as S.H.I.E.L.D's concerned, you don't exist." She didn't belong. Not to this life. Not even to this world. Eventual Steve/OC
1. It's a Wonderful Life

**Story Title:** Immigrant Song

**Summary:** Myka's life is turned upside down after a freak accident leaves her stranded and alone in an alternate universe with familiar looking strangers. Steve/Oc

**Warnings:** Rated T for language.

**Genre:** Drama/Angst/Romance/Humor

**Disclaimer**: Maybe if I wished really hard, I could own the Avengers, but as of now – I do not –sad face- so I'll just enjoy writing about them as much as possible.

**Author's Note:** Like so many before me, I have fallen hard for the Avengers. And after giving it much thought, I decided I wanted to give shot =) so I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to review. This story takes place before and during the avengers.

Songs used in this chapter are: With a Girl Like You by the Troggs and Wonderful! Wonderful by Johnny Mathis

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**Chapter one:**

It's a Wonderful Life

"_I want - to spend my life - with a girl like you ba ba ba, ba ba ba ba – and - do all the things – that you want me to ba ba ba, ba ba ba ba_…"

Bobbing her head up and down, Myka smiled as she sang along. She tapped her fingers gently against the steering wheel in time with the beat of the music that played on her radio, filling her car. She loathed admitting it, but she loved this song, could possible never get tired of it – the upbeat rhythm, the lyrics. She'd be lying if she said she had never imaged this song playing in one of her romantic daydreams – her love interest professing his love John Cusack style, bomb-box and all.

She shook her head at the daydream, reaching over, but eyes never leaving the rainy, wet road, to turn up the volume. Yeah. She was a weird one.

"_Till that time has come… that we might live as one – can I dance with you?"_

"…Can I dance with you?" She sang a little bit louder, as though she were competing with the raging thunderstorm outside, but was drowned out by a loud – _boom_! – emanating from above, and, what felt like, all around. She jumped slightly, stiffening at the sound. A sharp _eeep_ escaped her lips, the lyrics to _With a Girl Like You_ quickly forgotten as she stared worriedly at the road ahead of her, the windscreen wipers doing its best to clear the raindrops from her view.

She shook her head again, pushing her dark locks behind her ear.

I hate thunderstorms, she thought, but reminded herself that braving this storm would be worth it. She was close to her parent's home now, and would soon be safe and sound… with a home cooked meal and cake! At least she hoped that they had saved her some cake. _Vultures_.

She was driving to her parent's home for her mother's forty-second birthday, and though she knew she should be in her tiny apartment, studying for her morning finals, she decided that being with her family, at least for a couple of hours, wouldn't hurt. Besides, her mother would kill her if she missed her birthday. And that scared her more than failing her finals.

When she finally reached her parents two-story house, which was under some reconstruction, being done by her carpenter step-father, as it was an old house, the rain had not let up, but she let out a sigh of relief at not being on the road anymore. She scanned the few cars on the street, pleased to see that none had parked in the driveway and wondered how she was going to get her mom's gift into the house without it getting ruined. She regretted not bringing her book bag, or a plastic bag for that matter, but she had not expected it to rain.

The storm seemed to come from nowhere.

Unable to think of a better idea, she quickly shrugged off her leather jacket and wrapped the photo album-looking book, making sure it was nice and secure. She had worked hard on this gift for months and she'd be damned if she'd let a little rain – another crack of thunder erupted, interrupting her inner rant and she shrieked a little, cursed under her breath at how much of a baby she was. She grabbed her purse, and stepped out of her car, running towards the front door, hugging her leather jacket against her chest, tightly.

She didn't bother knocking, knowing well that her mom never locked the door when there were a lot of people coming over.

"Hello, hello!" Myka called out as she stepped into the house, she was greeted by the sound of loud chatter, and soft music.

"Mikey's home! Mikey's home," a voice sang, and a small, curly haired child came into view, wearing a flowery pink dress, and white flats. She was smiling widely, racing towards her with her arms outstretched. "Mikey, Mikey!"

Myka rolled her eyes, but smiled back as she placed her mom's present down to pick up the four-year-old in her arms, giving her a tight squeeze. The little girl didn't seem to mind that she was wet. "Birdie, how many times do you I have to tell you – my name isn't Mikey," the little girl listened on, intently, hazel eyes wide. "My name is Myka. My-ka."

The little girl giggled, her tiny hands on the older girl's shoulders, pushing away as she shook her head. "My name not 'Birdie'".

The other girl titled her head to the side in mock confusion. "But isn't a Robin a type of bird?" The little girl hesitated, and shrugged her shoulders, nodding her head uncertainly. "Well then you're a bird," Myka said, tickling her cousin. Both girls giggled.

"Well hey there, Frodo," her older cousin, Miguel greeted her as he walked into the foyer, wearing that stupid grin on his face that showed he was quite pleased with himself. It was identical to the goofy grin the small girl in her arms, who was currently trying to braid her wet hair, wore when she did something bad. "Good to see you out of the Shire."

Myka rolled her eyes at the nickname, and fought the urge to tell her older cousin to shove it. She was used to him making fun of her height. She was, after all, the shortest 'adult' (and she used the term adult loosely) from her mother's side of the family, who she was closer to, as her father was an only child and didn't have much family, but she was tired of reminding him that Hobbits were a lot shorter than five-foot-two, and she was perfectly fine with her height, thank you very much. But the two bickered like siblings, being only two years apart in age, and having grown up together. Miguel could never turn down a chance to poke fun at her, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it annoyed her to be called 'Frodo'.

"Right back at you, Sasquatch," she shot back, making fun of his six-foot-four frame. He really was a giant, she noted. Though he was no Hulk, he was pretty muscular, and did make her look like a hobbit in comparison.

She didn't miss the way his jaw clenched in annoyance - Mission accomplished – but he chuckled, shaking his head. "We were worried you wouldn't make it because of the storm," he told her, gesturing to the window.

She shrugged like it was no big deal. "Psh. Like I'd let a little rain keep me away." _Even though I'm ridiculously terrified of storms_, she thought but didn't say out loud. Miguel raised an eyebrow, already knowing she was afraid, but didn't say anything in front of Robin. In her eyes Myka was fearless, and not wanting the little girl to know that, she pushed most of her fears to the back of her mind, at least while she was around. "Where's the birthday girl?"

He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, "in the living room with James and everyone. You might want to dry off first – you're all wet –" Myka resisted the urge to make a 'that's what she said' joke, again, for Robin's sake – "aaand now you are too," he said, shaking his head as he took the little girl out of her arms. "Let go get you cleaned up!"

Before he walked away, Myka called out, "Hey, please tell me there's still cake!"

"No worries, Myk. I made sure we waited for you."

"Yes!"

She grabbed her mom's present and began to walk up the stairs when she heard Robin exclaim, "No daddy, her name not Mike. Her name My-ka!" This made her laugh a little, hearing the younger girl, who, no matter how many times she was told, could never really get her name right, correcting her father.

Myka quickly made her way to her old bedroom, wanting to join her family as soon as possible. Upon opening the door, she smiled at the familiarity of it. The room had been hers up until a year ago when she was finally able to afford a tiny one bedroom apartment in the city. She was pleasantly surprised to find that her mother and James hadn't moved anything, not even her posters.

She peeled off her wet clothes, dried herself off with a towel and put on a black buttoned up, long sleeve shirt with blue jeans. She silently thanked herself for being smart enough to leave some clothes behind when she moved, and decided to go barefoot at the last second, excuse being that she didn't have any dry shoes. Once she tied her hair in a donut bun, she headed downstairs to join the party with the present in her arms.

She greeted everyone along the way, surprised that so many people had come over on a Thursday evening, and smiled politely as she made her way to her mom, who was standing by the fireplace with her stepfather, James.

"Hey guys," she greeted her parents, making herself known.

Her mother turned. ""¡Por fin!, I was so worried about you!" She exclaimed in her heavy accent as she pulled Myka into a hug.

"I'm okay. I'm okay," she said, pulling away. "Happy birthday, mama. This is for you," she handed the leather jacket to the older woman, who eyed it in confusion. Myka turned her attention to her Stepfather.

After her biological father died when she was only seven-years-old, Myka swore she would never love another man as much as she loved him, would never be as close to anyone as she had been with him, but that promise began to disintegrate when her mother started dating James when she was twelve-years-old. Though she had initially disliked the man for wanting to take her dad's place, he won her affection after many months of trying when he took her out for ice cream and had a long talk with her.

"_I know that I could never take your daddy's place_," he had told her. "_I wouldn't even know how, because I know that I could never fill his shoes, but I love your mom very much. And I hope that, someday, you can make a place for me like I have for you_."

She was still hurting over her dad's death, but having James in her life, though at the time she would never admit it, made it easier to deal with. She knew she was being selfish.

Her mother and James were married the following year. And though, he told her, just because they were married, she didn't have to call him dad if it made her uncomfortable. She did so that father's day after her mother miscarried.

Her birthfather would always be daddy. James would always be dad.

"Glad you made it safely. Your mom almost had me go out looking for you," he chuckled, pulling her into a bear hug, his massive frame engulfing her. He kissed her cheek, his full beard scratching her face, and went to ruffle her hair like he usually did, but stopped when she gave him a look that clearly stated he shouldn't. She gave a loud sigh of relief when he didn't. He looked down at her feet when he let go of her completely. "Going natural tonight, are we, little hippy? All you're missing is the crown of flowers."

She considered this, "That actually sounds cute. Don't give me any idea."

"You could have put on some slippers," her mother interjected. "Or you could have borrowed mine."

The younger girl glanced down at her bare feet then her mother's, "Mom, we wear different sizes. Besides no one's going to care."

Her mother rolled her eyes, in the same manner as Myka, and the younger girl grinned. Her mom shook her head, and turned her attention to her guests. "Now that my baby is home –" (Mom, seriously?") "- We can finally eat!"

"_Little _baby," Myka heard her cousin tease as he walked passed her, Robin clinging to his neck.

"You're so lucky," she threatened him, motioning to the little girl.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Come on everyone," James said, ushering everyone into the dinning room. "Marie," he called out to Miguel's mother, "Help me in the kitchen?"

Once everyone had cleared the living room, her mother began to make her way to the dinning room, but Myka reached out to stop her. "Wait, mom. You didn't open your gift," she said, motioning to the present that laid on the fireplace mantel. She grabbed it, and handed it to her mother, who, again, eyed it curiously. "Open it." She did so. "It's a scrapbook," she elaborated, watching her mother flip through it, feeling just a little bit self-conscious.

She felt bad that she couldn't afford to buy her mother something extravagant, working at her school's library did not pay a lot, but when she noticed her mom's eyes becoming watery, she knew she'd gotten her the right gift.

The scrapbook was filled with pictures, old movie tickets, poems the younger girl had written, dedicated to her mother, drawings and a few other things that meant a lot to both women.

When her mother finally reached the last page, Myka watched as she raised a hand to her mouth, covering her smile. The heading on the page was titled: '_Mi Familia'_ in their native language. Underneath the cursive writing were three of her favorite pictures.

One was an old picture, edges slightly creased. In it was a young looking man, in his early twenties, bent forward slightly. Behind him, head poking out from behind his shoulder was a six-year-old Myka. Her arms were wrapped around her daddy's neck, smiling wide enough to show off her missing front teeth. Her mother stood beside them, her arm slung over the little girl, smiling beautifully.

The second picture held a seventeen-year-old Myka, sitting in between her stepfather, whom she was leaning against as she laughed, eyes squinted, and her mother, who was looking at them with an amused smile on her face.

The last picture was the most recent of Myka and her mother. They were both wearing hats they had bough that day. Myka had her hands gripping the edges of her boulder hat as if it were being blown away, while her mother rocked a black floppy sun hat.

Her mother continued to smile as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and she closed the scrapbook, holding it close to her chest. "_Me encanta. Gracias, amor_," she said, pulling Myka into a hug.

"You're very welcome," the younger girl whispered, returning the hug, her own eyes watering a little. She thought back to all the hard times she'd gone through with her mother, ups and downs like any other daughter and mother. "I love you, mom."

"I love you too. Now," her mother said, letting her go, but not entirely. "I have something for you," she said in a slight whisper, and walked to the other side of the room, opening a drawer and coming back with a small box. "I've been wanting to give this to you for a while now, but could not find a good time," she said handing it to her.

"Aren't you the one who's suppose to be getting gifts?" Myka asked, jokingly, opening the box. Inside was a silver necklace – a dream catcher, about the size of a quarter, with a lone feather dangling from it. "It's beautiful."

"It's yours. Your daddy bought it for you when you were little, but because you were always… losing things, I decided to keep it for you," she carefully took the necklace out of the box, and slipped the long silver chain around her neck. "After he died, I couldn't bear to look at anything that reminded me of him… so I hid it away, and forgot about it, but I found it recently and knew you should have it. He would want you to have it."

"Thank you," Myka said, fiddling with it. It was from her dad. She smiled. "I love it."

Her mother returned her smile, and placed an arm over the shorter girl's shoulder, "Come. Let's go join everyone," she said, leading her into the dinning room with everyone.

"Finally," Miguel called out, patting a chair beside him. "I saved you a seat."

Myka rolled her eyes, but went to sit beside him. She spent the rest of her night bickering with her older cousin, taking pictures with everyone, explaining to her family why she suddenly decided that she wanted to be a teacher after two years of majoring in psychology, and telling stories to Robin about princesses who kicked major butt. Towards the end of the night, they finally cut the cake. And after devouring the first piece of chocolate cake, she went to get another one, but stopped when her mother commented on how she hadn't wanted to mention it before but she was gaining weight, which her aunt Maria seemed to agree with.

Feeling self-conscious, she touched her belly and frowned. She knew she was slightly over-weight, but she didn't need anyone pointing that out. She let her mother take the cake from her hands, shoulders slumped in disappointment, but then another piece of cake appeared in front of her.

"You look beautiful," her stepfather said, handing her the piece of cake as he kissed her temple. "Don't tell mom."

Myka giggled. "You're the best."

It was nearing ten-o'clock when Myka decided it was time to head home, hoping to get few hours of studying done before bed.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay here?" Her stepfather asked, looking out the window. The rain had not stopped, if anything it seemed to have gotten worse. "Or I could drive you."

"No, that's okay." She put on her leather jacket, "And I would but I left all my books at home and I really need to study," she told him. "I'll be okay."

He nodded, but didn't seem, at all, happy with the idea of her driving in the storm.

"Call when you get home," her mother made her promise, giving her a hug and a kiss goodbye. "And thank you for the gift. I love you."

She smiled, "I love you too, both of you. I'll call as soon as I get in – promise." She looked towards the living room, spying Miguel on the couch with a sleeping Robin. "Bye, Sasquatch. We're still on for dinner Saturday, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it, Frodo," he replied, adjusting the little girl. "I'll tell her you said bye."

She bid everyone else goodbye with a wave, and rushed out of the house to her car, the strong wind nearly blowing her away, which startled her. It didn't take long before she was finally on the road, and wasn't surprised that they were empty. No one would be crazy enough to be out in this weather, save for her. It was creepy and totally quiet, well, aside from the heavy raindrops, howling wind and thunder.

She reached over to turn the radio on, changing stations until she finally found a song she liked. She was in luck – it was just starting.

"_Sometimes we walk hand in hand by the sea_," Myka sang along. "_And we breathe in the cool salty air… You turn to me with a kiss in your eyes, and my heart_ – shit!

Myka shrieked as a bolt of lightening struck a tree just a head of her, hitting it in just the right spot, causing it to fall over and block the road in front of her. Panicking and unable to stop in time, she turned the wheel sharply, causing the car to spin uncontrollably on the wet pavement. Her heart flew to her throat, cutting off her scream and ability to breathe. The sound of screeching tires filled her ears, and all she could think of was her mom.

After what felt like an eternity, her car stopped spinning and Myka lurched forward, seatbelt digging into her chest. The grip she held on her steering wheel did not loosen for some time, knuckles going pale and her poor heart was beating so fast she was sure it would burst out of her numb body.

"…_There you are, darling, only you and I …_"

She glanced down at the radio, the music somewhat pulling her out of her shocked state. She tried to calm her shaking body, but was unable to.

_Relax. It's okay. You're alive._

Unable to get her breathing under control, Myka opened her car door and stepped out into the rain, hoping it would help. She looked around, her car's high beams lighting the dark rode in the direction she'd just come from. She turned to look at the tree that had fallen in the direction she needed to go. Rubbing her hands over her face, she decided it would probably be best to go back to her parent's home, but wouldn't tell them what happened, at least, not yet.

"…_And we're lost in a world of our own…"_

Another crack of thunder sounded, causing her to scream and reach for the driver's side door, but before she could get into the car she felt the worse, most agonizing pain in her life, more painful than any tattoo she'd ever received. More painful than any injury she'd ever endured in her life. The sharp, burning sensation hit the back of her spine, tossing her a few feet away from the car as the heat spread through her entire body, and she vaguely wondered if she'd been struck by lightening. It had. And then her sight went white; a bright light enveloped her as her eyes closed shut.

When the light finally faded, Myka was gone.

Her car was still on - windscreen wipers still clearing raindrops, driver's side door wide open with the high beams still illuminating the darkness. Her car's radio was still playing…

"… _It's wonderful, wonderful… oh, so wonderful my love."_

But Myka was gone.

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**Translation:**

**¡Por fin!** – At last!

**Me encanta. Gracias, amor.** – I love it. Thank you, love.

**Mi Familia** - My family

Please review! =)


	2. Something to Remember

**A/N: **Welcome to the second chapter of this story, part of me wants to change the title, but not sure to what yet so bare with me for a while. I'm disappointed that the first chapter only got 2 reviews, but that doesn't mean I'm not grateful to **Torilovesu** and **camierose** for reviewing. Thank you so much! =) And thank you for all those who added this story to their favorites and are following the story – don't be shy, please review! Hope you all enjoy this chapter.

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**Chapter Two:**

Something to Remember

Myka woke suddenly, feeling tired but alert.

Her stiff body hurt all over. It tingled, and, weirdly enough, seemed to hum, and she felt hot – abnormally hot. She flexed her fingers, and tried to wiggle her toes.

Her limbs seemed to work just fine.

She blinked slowly, staring into space. Everything was blurry. She couldn't make out shapes. Was she going blind?

She felt fingers touch her arm, and her body convulsed as a shock seemed to spread throughout her. She cried out in pain and grimaced – it was like she was being electrocuted! The hand that had been touching her pulled away, and just as suddenly as the convulsion began it ended, "…okay…" she heard a voice say, but it sounded as though they were talking to her from an end of a tunnel. She let her head loll to the side the voice was coming from and could just barely make out the silhouette of a figure, hovering over her, but couldn't make out any facial features.

She felt extremely tired and weak all of a sudden, like all she wanted was to sleep.

"… are you?" the voice asked. She closed her eyes. There was silence. "What's your name?" She heard that loud and clear, it sounded closer than before, but still distorted.

"Myka," she replied, automatically. She was exhausted and in pain.

"I'm agent Phil –" the voice began to say, but Myka passed out before he could finish.

The next time she woke up it was to an annoying sound.

_Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… _

_What the hell is that noise?_ Myka wondered, groggily as she felt herself waking up. She kept her eyes closed in hopes of going back to sleep despite the oddly familiar noise. It was loud, sharp and insistent. _Ugh, shut up_, she wanted to say out loud but her mouth felt like cotton, throat burned like hell and she had such a headache!

It seemed to rival any headache she'd ever received from a long night of drinking.

_How much did I drink last night? _Turning her head away from the noise, she groaned, grimacing. She vaguely remembered Miguel offering her a glass of cranberry vodka, but had rejected it. She didn't like drinking around her parents. It wasn't because they disapproved of it; she just wasn't comfortable drinking around them yet.

Besides she'd driven home last night, right? She couldn't even find the confidence to get behind the wheel after two drinks – the whole don't drink and drive thing had been beaten into her brain since she could remember – and she felt as though she'd had a lot to drink.

_Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…_

Unable to ignore the persisting noise any longer, Myka tried to stretch her arm out, hoping to shut the alarm off and go back to sleep, vowing she wouldn't leave bed until her nasty hangover passed – she'd have to get up for water though – but found that she couldn't move much. She felt weak, and it was then that she noticed the dull prick in the crook of her arm, and something attached to her chest.

Brows furrowed, she opened her eyes and immediately regretted it when bright lights blinded her. She quickly shut them, but not before she caught a glimpse of a white ceiling and from beside her, she heard movement. She tried again after a moment. This time it was less painful. Despite her eyesight being blurry, she realized she wasn't in her room or anywhere familiar for that matter.

Why had it taken so long for her to realize that?

She also realized there were rails on the hard, uncomfortable bed she was lying in and there were lumpy pillows underneath her head. Confused, she scrunched her face and noticed, for the first time, something was taped across her face, under her nose. She made a move to take it off.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a warm hand grabbed hers, pulling it away from her face. There was a tingle – the fingers had shocked her. The hand pulled away, quickly, shaking it. Her eyes followed it to a figure standing beside her bed. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, and when it did, she found herself looking at a man with dark hair, wearing a suit and tie. His blue eyes scanned her face, curiously.

_What?_

"You're in a hospital wing," the man told her with a quiet but firm voice as though picking up on her confusion. "Do you remember what happened?"

She tilted her head in his direction, frowning. _Hospital? What – how?_ She racked her brain, trying to think – to remember. She remembered spending the evening at her parents' house, having dinner, eating cake, saying goodbye, getting in her car – her car.

She closed her eyes, remembering the tree falling over. "Car… accident," she told him, licking her chapped lips. Her voice sounded hoarse and unrecognizable.

The man kept his face neutral; his eyes shifted for a moment and then met hers again. "A car accident?" He repeated, and she nodded. It had been a car accident, right? "Do you remember anything after that?"

She thought again, but could only remember bits and pieces. There was a lot of rain, thunder and lightening. "No," she whispered, coughing suddenly. The man moved away to grab something beside her bed.

"Here," he said, putting a cup of water to her lips. "Drink slowly, it's going to hurt."

Maybe she should have taken his warning a little more seriously, but she'd been so thirsty! The first sip was the hardest; it burned all the way down. She had to move away, sputtering with a grimace. Thankfully, the man was patient, waiting for her to continue drinking. It was easier after that, soothing almost and she drank until there was no water left in the cup. She glanced up at the man, "thank you," she said, feeling a lot better and more awake. She tried to sit up just a little, and glanced around the room.

The room was mostly bare. There was a door to the left of her, near the edge of her bed, and a table on the other side of her with a plant, some magazines and a pitcher of water. She was surprised to find that there wasn't a clock or windows, but instead a mirror right behind the man in the suit. She could barely see her reflection, but from what she could tell she looked pale and her hair was sticking up in odd angles. She patted it down, feeling self-conscious.

And then a few thoughts occurred to her. Who was this man and where were her parents? If she'd been in an accident, shouldn't they be here?

"Where's my mom?" She asked him, quietly, touching her throat. It still hurt.

The man furrowed his brows at her, "Your—" he began, but stopped when the door to the room opened.

They both turned their attention to a man with graying black hair, wearing a long white coat with a stethoscope around his neck, enter the room. He smiled at her. "I see our patient is awake. Thank you for keeping her company, agent Coulson. I'll take over from here," he said.

Agent? Myka wondered, staring at the man beside her in confusion. When he moved to leave her side, she reached out for him. "Wait –" She faltered. Why did she want him to wait?

He looked down at her hand, which was now holding on to his elbow, confused, but then he patted it, almost carefully, giving her a tight-lipped smile. "You're in good hands," he turned to the other man, giving him a curt nod. "Doctor," and left the room without another word.

She stared after him as the doctor approached her.

"How are you feeling?" He asked her, grabbing a chair and pulling it over to her bed. He reached for something inside of his coat.

"Okay," she told him, shifting her eyes away as he shined a light in her eyes.

"Eyes are sensitive as expected. Nurse, please take note of that," he told a woman standing by the doorway. She hadn't even noticed the woman standing there. To her, he asked, "Do you have any nausea, headache, other pains?" He moved to look at something she couldn't see.

"Just a headache," she told him, feeling uncomfortable. She wished the other man – agent Coulson – had stayed, but then shook her head at the thought. She didn't even know him. She looked down at her hands, wriggling her fingers. "How long have I been out?"

She felt okay for someone who'd been in an accident. Tired, and a bit disoriented, but okay.

"For some time now," he answered, vaguely after some silence.

She didn't like his answer, but decided to drop it for the time being – there was a part of her, a tiny voice in the back of her mind that told her she didn't want to know, and maybe she really didn't.

"Your vital signs are good… but there's…" he trailed off, and she waited for him to continue, feeling somewhat anxious. Was something wrong with her? He never finished his sentence.

"Can I see my mom?" She asked him, as he sat back down. The nurse handed him a folder. He began writing in it.

"What's your name?" He asked, ignoring her question.

She furrowed her brows, but answered anyways, "Myka Benitez." Why he wanted to know her name was beyond her, didn't he already know it? Maybe it was to make sure she remembered it?

Either way, this whole situation was starting to piss her off.

"Why wont you let me see my mom?" She asked again, feeling more anxious. In the background the persistent beeping noise picked up.

Heart monitor, she realized. Not an alarm. She really was stupid sometimes.

He turned his head to glance at the heart monitor. If Myka hadn't been looking, she would have missed the worried look on his face as he turned away from her because when he looked back it was gone and he was giving her a reassuring smile. "We'll talk about that later, let's focus on –"

"No," she cut him off, frustrated. "I want to see her," she demanded and she didn't care if she was overreacting or acting like a child. Something about all of this didn't seem right. First there was an agent watching over her, the doctor wouldn't give her straight answers and now he wouldn't allow her to see her mother?

Myka remembered that when she was really young, she fell out of a tree. Hit her head so hard, it knocked her out cold. When she woke up a couple of hours later, her mother was hovering over almost immediately, scolding her and thanking God that she was okay. So why wasn't she with her now? "Where is she?" She asked out loud. "What aren't you telling me?"

The doctor stared at her. "Ms. Benitez," he started. His voice was low and soft, like he was trying to be soothing. It wasn't working. "You've been comatose for quite some time. I'd like to run some tests to make sure that you're okay before we discuss… other matters."

"Okay," she nodded because it made sense. "What happened… to me? Did I – was I in a car accident?"

He gave her a solemn look, "We were hoping you could tell us. You don't remember?"

She shook her head, closing her eyes, willing herself to remember. She had told the agent that it had been a car accident but she wasn't so sure now that she was fully awake and aware. She remembered avoiding the fallen tree… burning, pain, a bright light and falling but it didn't make sense. "No, I don't remember."

"Well that's not uncommon. With most patients, after a traumatic accident, it's … normal to experience some amnesia. Most recall what happened in a matter of days… some not at all."

She processed all this.

"How long was I out?" She asked, quietly.

"I don't think—"

"How long?" It couldn't have been more than a couple of days, right? From what she saw, she looked okay. There were no burns, no scratches. No broken bones.

There was a pause. "Five months."

Myka's mind went blank.

"Five months?" She repeated, almost in disbelief. How as that possible? She looked away from the doctor as he began to talk about running some tests on her, wanting to make sure she didn't have any long term brain damage and then she completely went deaf, wrapped up in her own thoughts.

Five months. She'd been comatose for five months. She'd probably lost her job, not to mention she missed her finals, which meant she had to start the semester over. Maybe if she explained what happened, maybe her mother had – oh… her poor mother. Her mom must have been going crazy with worry, wondering what had happened to her, if she'd ever wake up. Myka felt her eyes water at the thought.

She felt sick.

"I want to see my mom," she told him, quietly. "She needs to know that I'm okay – that I'm fine. I'm fine, right?" Myka asked, feeling a bubble of panic start to form. Her body started to tingle. She wanted to cry, but forced herself not to.

"Ms. Benitez - Myka, please, calm down – you're starting to have a panic attack."

"How can I not?" Myka shouted. "You're telling me that I've basically been dead to the world for five months and you want me to be calm?" She raised her hand, pulling the wire taped across her face off. She needed air. Fresh air.

"Now dear, you don't want to do that," the nurse, who had remained silent throughout the whole ordeal, rushed to her side to stop her.

"Don't," Myka slapped the older woman's hands away, continuing to free herself of all the wires she could. There were a lot more than she realized. "I just want to see her. Why is that so hard to understand?"

She couldn't understand why she felt this desperate need to see her mother.

"Stop," the doctor order, grabbing her wrists before she could pull out the wires that were connected to the heart monitor, which was currently going berserk. It sounded louder now. The doctor pushed her back into the bed. "I need you to calm down," he said, speaking loudly but slowly. When she didn't stop resisting, he asked the nurse to get help.

The older woman ran off, shouting for assistance and it didn't take long for others to come to aid the doctor.

"I need you to hold her arms and legs," he instructed to the men in uniform, over her cries. "Be careful, don't let her hurt herself." There had to have been at least half a dozen of them, Myka hadn't counted, she was too busy struggling from them to do so.

"Let me go," she pleaded, kicking at the man grabbing at her legs but he successfully pinned them down as the others had with her arms.

All these men for a tiny girl, she vaguely wondered at one point. Miguel would be proud… or horrified. She didn't care. She was too scared to care.

"Myka, I'm going to give you a sedative," the doctor told her. "It'll help you calm down."

"No, no, no – wait!" She pleaded, moving away from the needle he was preparing. She didn't want to sleep again. What if she didn't wake up? It was an irrational fear but she was aware that she was, in fact, having a panic attack. She wasn't breathing properly, and she felt hot. And her body was tingling, almost vibrating.

Wait… this wasn't a panic attack.

"Wait – wait," she pleaded, trying to assess what was happening to her but the panic she had been feeling hit her hard. "Stop!" She cried out, and her voice seemed to echo throughout the room. It was loud enough to cause everyone in the room to stop for just a moment.

And that moment seemed to move in slow motion.

The tingling sensation Myka had been feeling since she'd woken up, spread through her entire body and was so intense that she had to close her eyes. She couldn't breath.

Her fists clenched, gripping the sheets tightly. Even her toes curled.

She felt like a soda bottle that had been shaken, bubbles ready to explode. And then she did.

She felt her back arch, head lift a little from the mattress and she screamed, and then there were more screams that she knew weren't her own.

Then there was silence.

Myka slumped back into the bed, exhaustion overtaking her. She passed out unaware of what happened, or of the hidden camera in the room that had recorded the whole ordeal before it malfunctioned.

Director Fury looked away from the television monitor. Its signal had been distorted. There was only static now. The camera had been fried by what the girl had done. He looked back into the room, observing from the two-way mirror as agents approached the area, cautiously to aid the fallen.

Fury couldn't tell how badly they were hurt from where he was standing. His good eye shifted to the girl.

"Sir?" Agent Coulson stepped forward, awaiting orders.

Without turning away from the girl, Fury said, "Get me Natasha Romanoff."


End file.
